


Say No More

by Rejuvenescenceia



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Pining, Secret Crush, Synesthesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 22:42:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11344593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rejuvenescenceia/pseuds/Rejuvenescenceia
Summary: Junkrat's got a bad, bad crush*Repost*





	Say No More

**Author's Note:**

> Moved it over here. Apologies for confusion. Unbeta'd

“...... **Pink** ..........”

The word was rumbled out and it made Junkrat stop what he was doing, his head cocking to the side and an eyebrow going up. Roadhog had been sitting behind him while he worked for the better part of two hours saying absolutely nothing, absorbed in a few borrowed copies of girly mags from Hana. Rat had been fine to let him be, deciding that if Roadhog was in the mood for celebrity gossip so be it.

He looked over his shoulder, expecting Roadhog to be reading, but instead he found Hog's big brown eyes fixed on him, mask pushed up and exposing the rough square jaw, his wide mouth stretched into a frown of confusion.

“The fuck you staring at, Hoggie?”

Instead of replying Roadhog reached out and pressed one of his fingers against Rat's arm.

Looking down, Rat couldn't figure out what was worth the attention. Muscled but skinny, his arm was the same as it always was.

“There ain't anything pink there mate, and I ain't wearing no pink for you. I don't do that shit.”

He picked up his screwdriver, going back to tinkering when Roadhog spoke up again.

“ **You're pink** .”

“I ain't! I'm speckled and white as a grub if I ain't all sooty or red,” said Rat.

“ **No burns** .”

Rat looked back at his arm. Ever since he could remember, there hadn't been a time where he wasn't burned  _ somewhere.  _ But Hog was right. Rat wasn't burned, his skin was a healthy colour. It was even clean, mostly because he was living in the dorms instead of sleeping on rocks and he hadn't blown up anything yet that day.

He even knew who to thank for it all.

“It's not like it's important,” said Rat, going on. “They got me running those drills with the medics all the time. When I'm on defence I'm always being healed, whether I like it or not. A man likes his scars but the Drongo's keep em off me.”

He sniffed, like this was deeply offensive.

He also knew without looking that Roadhog was still watching him, probably accusingly. Waiting for  _ something. _

Because against his will, he was getting healthy and clean more than he'd like. He tried to avoid the bath most days and anything else because he figured a healthy coat of dirt kept the germs away, but now the radiation poisoning was down. His hair was growing back where he didn't really expect it to ever again. Instead of patches, he had a fine growth of fuzz filling in the gaps on his head.

Bloody annoying.

“ **You like it** .”

“Don't know what you're on about, Hog.”

Again he could feel  _ That Stare, _ patented Roadhog.

“Bugger off.”

“ **You should talk to him** .”

“Oh bloody buggering fuck,” he muttered. “What's a man gotta do for some  _ peace?” _

He reached for his peg, pulling it on before hopping to his feet, leaving without a good-bye or a parting glare, letting the door fall shut behind him. Of course it was  _ their _ room so it meant seeing Hog sooner or later, but this was fine enough for Rat. He didn't need judgmental stares, as if Hog knew something that he figured Rat didn't.

Without really thinking about it he already knew where he was going. He was opening locks with stolen copied keys, heading into the back stairwell and up and into the mechanical room he knew was above the dorms. Athena might have protested at him by now if Rat had ever caused specific mischief there, but he hadn't any intention of that. She didn't make a sound as he let himself into the HVAC system.

Lights guided him down the ducts. The Watch Points were old and the HVAC was easy to navigate, plenty easier than new buildings with all of their security. Steel walls lead him to a spot where he could sit, waiting for the echos of his peg to die down and let the sounds of the building filter back and fill the silence. It was warm there, the air conditioning working and the hot air pushing through to the roof. He liked it, it made him think of Australia, all that oppressive heat.

Rat closed his eyes and listened.

Echoing up from the chambers he heard the tempo, which had been growing louder as he walked, now mixing with music. Down the closest duct, where one would have to crawl, was the duct to Lúcio's room. The sounds of his latest remix on his hit  _ Rejuvenesencia  _ were soft, drawn down into something even more soothing than the original. Rat didn't know music, but he loved the song.

It was the closest he would probably ever get to actually talking to Lúcio. Beyond the odd word during missions they hadn't had a real conversation. Lúcio was beautiful. Rat was dead gone on him the second he saw him. Everything about Lúcio made Rat feel woozy and anxious. His fingers wouldn't work and his heart would go fluttering on and on and Rat never knew what to say or do, so he usually ended up swearing before he ran away.

“Talk to him,” muttered Rat, as if that would somehow be  _ easy. _

He doubted Lúcio even wanted to talk to Rat anyway. He and Roadhog were outsiders, hired muscle and explosives.

All love sick and yearning, Rat let his head fall back, feeling golden the way he always did listening to his music.

_ Beats are stronger today, _ he thought, wondering if Lúcio was experimenting with dubstep. It wasn't his usual style.

_ Thud. _ That had a distinctly metallic sound, a muffled sound of rubber souls or even bare feet on the metal.

_ Oh shit. _

He opened his eyes, spotting the figure in the hall a moment later with their body silhouetted with the light. Lúcio.

_ Double shit. _

“I.” He paused. Even he knew there was no way to make hanging out in the ducts above someone's bedroom sound normal. “G'day, mate.”

Fortunately, Lúcio was smiling, full lips raised up in a kind of smirk, his eyebrow arched up and fingers tapping his bare arms. He was gorgeous, dressed in sweatpants and a tank top, even with his silly green sandals. “There are easier ways to listen to music, you know?”

“Music? Whaddya mean? Just like the heat up here, mate.”

“And the dust?”

“'Specially the dust. Good shock to the lungs makes ya healthier. Now, if you'll excuse me,” he got up, shuffling for the exit, body a bit stooped from the ceiling. He was definitely pink  _ now,  _ and now that Lúcio knew his spot the game was up. Maybe he'd lurk on the window sills like a crow.

Footsteps were following him. “Why don't you come to my room? I'm mixing something new and could use another pair of ears.”

The first instinct was to tell him no and keep going, be his usual prickly self. But he could hear  _ and _ feel the quiet glare that Hog would give him for doing this, and the temptation of getting a look into Lúcio's private domain, or even hearing him sing, was almost too good to pass up.

Without a yes or no he shrugged and urged Lúcio to lead.

Even though he was normally a chatterbox, Lúcio said nothing and lead the way. Rat's constant footsteps made an easy enough path to the mechanical room. Out in the hall they only saw Mei, who looked rather incredulous as the two of them passed.

The closer to Lúcio's door, the greater the anxiety. Rat didn't feel like this even when he was practising new techniques with the bits and bobs he found lying around to create new frag's. He fidgeted as Lúcio unlocked the door and let them in.

_ Green. _ The only light was from a lamp by the bed, the usual small cot everyone but the largest had, and it gave the room a jungle feel with its viridian glass. There was a mass of computer equipment weighing down a desk with a few musical instruments, most of them electronic, the screen open to a mixing program. Littering the few clear spots of desk and shelf were little bits of other life – wrappers, frog figurines, cans of Fanta. A signed picture of Hana was pinned to a cork board. On another desk, wedged into the corner, was Lúcio's gear for fighting and a mess of tools.

“You can sit on the bed. Don't have much room for company,” said Lúcio, getting into the swivelling chair before the computer.

He might have said something along the lines of not wanting to mess it, if it hadn't been for the fact the bedding was already mostly kicked around and off. Awkwardly, Rat perched on the edge of the mattress.

“What do I do?” he asked, glancing at the door, wanting to escape.

“Just listen. I always figured you'd be a bit hard of hearing or have tinnitus, but you do fairly well I notice.”

Rat fidgeted. “You cured all that.”

Turning in his seat, Lúcio raised an eyebrow. “For reals?”

“Just get on with it,” he grumbled.

“Sure man, no problem.”

He listened to Lúcio work, still looking around the room. It could well be the only time he'd ever see it and he wanted to know as much as possible. There was a well worn paperback novel on the bed stand next to another book about hockey and an old handheld gaming system with a small stack of cartridges. A football lurked in the corner and hacky sacks seemed to hide everywhere along with clothing.

This close the music was much more interesting and intense. He wondered what some of his own favourites would sound like now. He was used to having muffled hearing and the ringing of tinnitus, which always came back when he was on a mission but disappeared whenever Lúcio was doing his healing.

“What do you like listening to, Jamie?”

_ Jamie. _ Only Hog called him Jamie, and only rarely. He hadn't even learned Hog's real name until they'd joined Overwatch. He found he liked it from Lúcio though.

“I dunno.”

“What do you mean?” asked Lúcio. “Everyone listens to  _ something.  _ Even Mako listens to K-Pop.”

He made a grumbling sound in his throat. “Chopin, sometimes. Debussy. Mozart. I dunno, plenty.”

“No shit, you like classical? I'm surprised! Here, listen to this-”

After a moment Lúcio pulled up a program, smiling to himself as he clicked play. Rat recognized Beethoven’s Fifth start to play, curious, and raised an eyebrow as the music started to change into a remix. 

“Oi, that’s cool mate. Didn’t know people did that! I bet if someone took Tchaikovsky’s 1812 overture they’d make a bangin’ tune with some dub step.”

“I bet it’s been done, dude, but tell you what. I’ll give it a listen and put my own spin, hey?”

He’d gone in playing it aloof, grumpy, but he found himself smiling. No one had offered anything like that before.

This seemed to please Lúcio because he grinned even wider. It made Rat’s insides feel like mush as he met his eyes and he squirmed, had to try to fight the smile off his face and look away.

“So what did you need me for, mate?”

“Get your opinions, mostly,” said Lúcio. “Here, this is a new take on ‘Rejuv.’ I’m releasing a remix LP. You know, to keep people from rioting while I’m here with Overwatch.”

“Or encourage it?” offered Rat slyly.

Lúcio laughed, the sound deep and sweet. “That too.”

They listened in silence a few moments. Rat liked it, tapping his fingers along. He nodded with it, humming a little. He liked the version he heard in battle better but this was good. He closed his eyes. “Golden, mate.”

The bed dipped and Rat jumped a little, looking over at Lúcio. He was leaning back, legs outstretched in front of him, much shorter than Rat’s but also much more muscular. 

“That what you see?” Lúcio asked, his toes tapping on air to the beat.

“See?”

“Oh, guess you don’t have Synthesia. Thought for a moment… Well. You used a colour.”

“What’s that?”

Lúcio smiled, closing his eyes. “I can see colour in the air, or behind my eyes, in time to music. And I make music to be the colours I want. And when I made  _ Rejuvenesencia  _ I wanted it to be gold.”

Rat didn’t know what to say, watching Lucio nod his head in time a moment, wondering what he was seeing. Rat wasn’t so uneducated as people liked to believe. He liked art and music fine, his mother had a taste for classics. He had a brief vision of colours swirling around Lucio like Van Gogh’s work.

“Bet my voice looks like mud, eh mate?” he laughed. “Must be annoying, seeing colours for voices.”

“Nah man,” said Lúcio with a laugh. “Hum or sing for me. I’ll tell you what colours exactly come up.”

“I ain’t a performin’ monkey,” he said, knowing he was probably going to do it anyway. He wasn’t sure he could resist trying to show off for Lúcio or finding out what colours he might be.

“I won’t tell anyone. Just a couple lines? Even just humming. I’ll start you off. Hmm,” he tapped his chin a moment, rubbing a finger over the soft looking fuzz of his goatee. “What’s something everyone knows…”

Not wanting to have some sort of odd song he may or may not know pushed on him - or feel stupid for  _ not _ knowing it, if it was some kind of pop culture icon - Rat just sighed and closed his eyes, screwing up his face a moment before humming along as nicely as he could to the remix. 

He glanced over after a few seconds to see Lúcio with his eyes closed, his lips tugging in a little smile again. He was turned towards Rat, weight on his hip and one hand, his other rather close to Rat’s own, index finger tapping along with the rhythm. 

“Red,” said Lúcio, his voice sort of dreamy. “With speckles of orange.”

“Seriously?” he asked, forgetting that he was supposed to be feeling put on the spot instead of intrigued.

“Oh man, that little bit - your voice went deeper - it was this dark electric blue. Deep, man.” The song stopped and Lúcio’s finger stopped tapping, resting on the side of Rat’s hand. In what could only be deliberate, it made a slow half circle on one of his knuckles.

Rat’s heart chose that moment to go out of control, throbbing in his chest to the point where he was afraid it was going to bang its way straight out or blow up. His face flushed up hot and he knew if Hog had been there he might rumble out that word  _ pink _ again, and Rat felt so awkward and ugly sitting next to someone like Lúcio.

“You okay?” asked Lucio, opening his eyes again. “You’re blushing - it’s cute.”

“Cute - I - I’m a bloke, an’ I ain’t  _ cute. _ I’m a Junker, mate. Scourge of the outback and all that.” He was blushing harder. 

It just seemed to egg Lúcio on though. “You are, though. You’ve got good shape, your voice looks so lit, and I’m super jealous of those freckles.”

“Enough of that, you drongo.”

“If I add a ‘no homo’ will it make you feel better?” he laughed. 

He thought about it. Rat knew saying anything affirmative would mean he could get out of there and go back to lurking about like a bat but Lúcio seemed to draw him in in the best ways possible. “I was up there because I like listenin’ to you and I don’t know how to talk to people,” said Rat, rushing it out. “I - I’m up there a lot.”

Lúcio seemed to wait for more before he laughed. “That’s cool. Athena told me the first day you were up there, and when you didn’t do anything weird like break in I figured that was it. Or that maybe if I gave you enough time you might come talk to me.”

He winced.

“Seriously man, I’m not mad. And when I figured you were too shy or whatever I figured I’d go up myself.”

“But I, uh,” Rat licked his lips, trying to figure out what to say. The last time he told someone he was interested in sex it had basically gone  _ ‘hey Sheila, you down for a gob?’  _ and that… well. That wasn’t right. Not for someone like Lúcio. “...uh…”

And he didn’t even know if it was the sex he wanted. He wanted weird things, like sharing boba tea or listening to music or taking naps.

“Aw, fuck it.”

He leaned in and kissed Lúcio without invitation, figuring if he got one chance he’d accept the shiner. Rat never exactly held back when he wanted something. If it was shiny and pretty, he took it. If it looked like it needed to crumble, he’d fuck it up until it was rubble and the little  _ need-need-need _ itch in his head was thoroughly scratched and he could move on. 

And Lúcio was more than just an itch, he was a  _ hunger.  _ A hunger to touch all that perfect skin or hear that gorgeous voice moan and beg, to see him sink those white teeth into that full and fleshy lower lip as he arched up in pleasure that Rat was giving him.

God, he wanted to make that boy feel good.

It only lasted a few seconds but Rat made a soft sound at the same time as Lúcio, especially when one of Lúcio’s hands touched his cheek for just a moment, the other squeezing around his left wrist.

They pulled away and Lúcio gave him a little smile, his eyes dreamy. “There was that blue again.”


End file.
